key words i don't want to use in a poem:
demon,
love,
father,
permeating my insides,
****,
*******,
****,
and every other word that seem to be used by everyone
cliche
including my story
and poetry
and real feelings
tonight i finally realized i was beautiful
in all my glory
in my pain
my lack thereof
my inability to write poetry the past four years despite
watching
and observing
and hoping
and imaging
and picturing
hopelessly
in my inability to feel relatable
in my inability to conform to anything that appears to be a trend
in my safe bubble in my head
in my mother's arms
in my demons
in my loves
in my father
in my permeated insides
in my *****
in my goddamns,
in my *****,
in
me.
i am beautiful.
and i will forget, so please
throw compliments and pitty parties
my way
because that's what i've remembered throughout my days
not the night that i was reminded that
poetry empowers me
on a cold night
in new york city
for the first time
when amazing auras of poets,
and women
surrounded me
just another day for them
but not for me
that opened doors i've been trying to figure out how to open for quite some time
this on the last day of march
of women's history month
of the beginning of april
of poetry month
of liberation
of beauty
of me.
i truly felt beautiful today
with help
but not from you.
